Like So

Ranting, raving, burning bridges and moving forward.

Irony. Um, Wait. That is Irony Right?

Now that we all know for sure that the zombie apocalypse isn’t upon us I can safely look ahead to 2013 without worrying about stupid Mayan prophecies.

Ok – I wasn’t really that worried.

Fine. I was a little worried. But just in a “dude you’re being insane stop that right now” sort of way. Right. Back to the reason why I’m posting.

So last year I wrote a letter to 2012, refusing to acknowledge 2011, because by my standards at the time, 2011 was the worst. year. ever.

Obviously I had abysmally low standards at the time. At least when it came to measuring the crap-tastic-ness of my years. Because, boy, was 2012 a doozy. I spent most of it in bed actually. Grief will do that to a person. Not so great for the figure though, I assure you.

But then, really, when you break it down, I’ve spent most of the 2000’s in bed. And not just sleeping. I mean, of course, I was sleeping. But not just the regular one-third-of-my-life kind of sleeping that most normal people do. I did the kind of zombie-fied sleeping that depressed people do.

Hell, I’m still in that zombie-licious sleepy state.

The truth is, I don’t quite know how to snap myself out of it. I’ve got happy pills, but they just make the panic attacks go away and make things less ZOMG MY LIFE IS ENDING horrible. But really, happy pills are a band-aid.

Here’s the irony of it all. Wait – is it irony? I never really truly get the definition of irony. But I suppose this is irony (I know that a traffic jam when you’re already late and a no smoking sign on your cigarette break are only ironic according to Alanis). Wait. I just got distracted. Rewind.

The irony of it is that sometimes at night, two seconds before I fall asleep the thought hits me: When I grow old, I’m so going to regret all of the years I spent depressed and not doing anything with my life.

And then I freak the fuck out.

Ok, I don’t actually fall asleep after having that thought. I usually have to put on a Harry Potter audio book to shut my head down after that panic party.

But the point is that I KNOW I shouldn’t be living like this. I just don’t know what the fuck to do about it. Because I’ve been asleep for so freaking long I just do it out of force of habit or sheer necessity. Oh – and don’t tell me to go out for a walk and that should make everything better. When you’re depressed and overweight, the last fucking thing you can bring yourself to do is go on a freaking walk. If only it were that easy.

I hate looking back on a whole. freaking. year. and knowing that I spent most of it asleep. Yes, I got shit done. But I know what I’m capable of getting done when I actually have the energy to do shit. And trust me, that’s way more than what I’ve gotten done in 2012. Or 2011. Or 2010 or 2009 for that matter.

And that folks – is not good.

I can blame grief, I can blame infertility limbo. I can blame a lot of things.

But the truth is – it’s just depression coupled with a healthy dose of lazy and an addiction to trashy TV.

Something’s gotta give in 2013.

Oh! Here’s the real irony: Chances are I’ll be spending part of 2013 on forced bed rest. So how in the hell does one stop sleeping when one is actually forced into a sleeping contraption 24-7 due to medical necessity?

This is one for the ages, folks.

My life is officially an Alanis Morissette song.

Oh, wait. It isn’t – because I think I actually do fit the real definition of irony. I’m sorry Alanis. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m a huge fan! Seriously, I got really pissed when your concert sold out before I could get tickets last month. I totes lurve you and stuff.

Now I’m really rambling.

Here’s to a less rambling 2013!

And, hopefully and un-ironically, a better year all around.


Like So

When I was 15, I picked up “The Music of Chance” by Paul Auster. It was my first true “adult” book. You know – not the kind of book we think is mature but one that actually is.

I flew through that book, and very soon afterwards, I started swallowing everything by Auster that I could get my hands on.

Eventually, I landed on “Mr. Vertigo”. An amazing book by all accounts. But one thing stuck in my 15-year-old mind. One thing that hasn’t left me in the 17 years since. The last sentence in the book. Two words: Like so.

In those two words, Auster conveyed a universe of meaning. I won’t spoil the book here, because you all should just go out and read it. But it blew my 15-year-old mind. It left a lasting impression.

Those two words have followed me, and have evolved in meaning for me.

This is how it’s done.

It’s that simple.

Just like that.

You just go ahead and do it.

Like so.

Or in Hebrew: Kacha.

My life for a very long time has been about waiting. I’m tired of waiting, so it’s time to stop waiting.

Like so.